


The Horrors of School Shopping

by WhoStarLocked



Series: Adoption AU [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Fear, Feels, Hurt Clint Barton, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Bruce Banner, Kid Clint Barton, Kid Fic, Kid Natasha Romanov, Kid Thor (Marvel), Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Past Child Abuse, Shock, Shopping, Team as Family, Uncertainty, Worry, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 23:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21346576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoStarLocked/pseuds/WhoStarLocked
Summary: School supply shopping turns into a sort-of nightmare for Steve and Tony's family when Steve accidentally upsets Clint. Thankfully, Bucky is around to save the day.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Adoption AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403485
Comments: 3
Kudos: 146





	The Horrors of School Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows on from Finding Family, and probably won't make much sense if you haven't read that story first. But the basic jist is that Steve and Tony are happily married, and have adopted Thor, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint. 
> 
> Please note that there is a scene between Clint and Bucky in this story that will definitely not make sense if you haven't read the first story, but it's kind of a big reveal, so please see the end notes for clarification on that!
> 
> You can all thank TheDarkestDandelion (my housemate) for the happy ending.   
*MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE - THIS IS OFF-SCREEN, BUT TALKED ABOUT EXPLICITLY! PLEASE DON'T READ IF THIS IS A TRIGGER!*

Nothing was worse than school shopping. Steve hated it. He loved his kids; would do anything for them, but he hated having to run around town trying to coerce children into doing things they did not want to do. In past years, he’d found it hard enough with three kids, all of whom were old enough to know that school shopping just had to be done, was one of life’s necessary evils and the sooner they got it done, the sooner they could all go home.

With Clint, it was more exasperating than ever. The school they’d gotten Clint a place at had very particular rules for their uniform. Basically, it meant Steve had to try to convince Clint that he really wanted the white shirt he’d be allowed to wear at school over any of the other shirts in the shop. It was difficult, considering he was letting Thor and Bruce pick out any shirts they wanted.

“Clint, your school uniform sheet says white shirt.” He sighed as the eight year old showed a pointed interest in a purple t shirt instead.

“But I don’t like white.” Clint answered absently, not looking away from the coloured clothes.

“It’s a uniform, Clint. I know it sucks, but you don’t get a choice.” He explained as he made his way over to Clint, some white shirts in his hand.

“Here,” Steve handed Clint the shirts. “Bruce, will you go take Clint to try these on?” As Bruce led Clint over to the fitting rooms, Steve sighed.

Thor, who had been perusing the nearby shoe section, sidled over as his two younger brothers got out of earshot.

“You know, I found compromise to be very useful when trying to make Loki do something he didn’t want to do.”

Steve turned to him. “Who’s Loki?” Thor gave him a twisted, clearly unhappy smile.

“My brother. Well, he was actually adopted as well. He went… kind of psycho when he found out. Got it in his head we didn’t love him.” Thor sighed. “Anyway, not the point. Compromise with him.” Thor said, nodding in the direction Clint and Bruce had taken.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Compromise how? He hates all of the uniform we have to buy.”

Thor grinned, picked up the purple t shirt that Clint had been looking at and threw it into the basket Steve was carrying.

“Clint already claimed purple, Thor, get a different colour!” Natasha called as she picked her way expertly through the throng of other shoppers towards them. Tony wasn’t far behind her, carrying another basket.

“It’s _for_ Clint.” Thor grinned as she reached them. “Have you left him enough money in Tony’s bank to buy it?” He teased, jabbing her arm lightly with a finger.

“Ha, ha.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “I got everything except my ballet stuff.” She reported.

“All suitable?” Steve questioned. “I don’t want a repeat of last year.”

“That shirt wasn’t even revealing. It was just skin tight.” Nat grumbled.

“Ah, but Natasha, boys your age are in a delicate stage.” Thor answered. At her brother’s statement, she shifted her weight to one leg, folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“They are only just starting to discover boobs.” Thor managed to finish his sentence with a straight face before he grinned. Nat smiled back at him, and their conversation about when boys became aware of boobs continued.

“How far from done are we?” Tony muttered as he reached Steve’s side. “_I’m_ getting stressed, let alone Bruce.” Steve smiled and placed a small kiss on Tony’s cheek.

“Let alone me what?” Bruce asked, reappearing.

“Getting stressed.” Tony answered as he shuffled further away from Steve and turned around to let Bruce deposit clothes into the baskets, but Bruce faltered.

“Shopping’s always stressful. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think I could handle it.” He answered, pulling a face.

“What did you do with Clint?” Steve asked, watching Bruce shuffle through the white shirts.

Bruce gave a non-committal hum. “He went to the restroom. This one fit him best,” Bruce said, shoving a shirt at Steve. “But he said he didn’t like it because it’s, quote too see-through, and this one he said would be okay if they have one with longer sleeves.”

“Why would Clint care about how see through his shirt is?” Tony wondered aloud. “He’s eight. We think.”

Bruce paused slightly, glancing up at them above his glasses. When he spoke, his voice was low, not meant to carry far. “Have you seen his back?”

“No,” Steve answered honestly. Since Clint had moved in with them, he’d made it clear to everyone that he would not change clothes unless he was alone. Given what they already knew about his previous foster home, Steve hadn’t tried to argue the point. “Why?”

Bruce pursed his lips, clearly unhappy about something. “Scars.” He eventually answered. “From a belt, I’d say. And _I’d_ know.” Bruce added. Tony gave Bruce’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Bruce smiled grimly.

A few moments later, Clint reappeared, looking sullen. “You okay, kiddo?” Tony asked. “Almost done, then we can all go grab lunch.” Clint sighed, kicking at the floor.

“Did they have it with longer sleeves?” He asked in a monotone, not looking up.

“We haven’t looked yet, buddy, but your uniform list specifically says short sleeve shirt. How come you want a longer sleeve?” Tony asked, exchanging a concerned glance with Steve.

Clint shrugged, still watching his trainer leave scuff marks on the floor of the shop. “Just prefer it.” Tony sighed and crouched down to Clint’s level, putting himself in Clint’s sight line.

“Okay, tell you what, we’ll buy one of each today, talk to your teachers, and if it’s okay with them, we’ll bring the short sleeve one back and swap it, yeah?” Clint considered this for a moment before nodding, though he still looked glum. “Awesome. I’ll go grab one with long sleeves.” Tony said and ruffled Clint’s hair as he stood.

* * *

Forty five minutes later, and they were only just at the front of the queue. Nat was beginning to get snappy, Bruce was fidgeting restlessly, and even Thor looked bored to tears. Clint was being worryingly quiet, keeping to himself behind all the others. As Steve distributed bags among the kids for them to carry, Tony stepped forwards to pay. Another shopper with a pram and a toddler was attempting to manoeuvre their way out of the shop. Steve, realising Clint was in the way of the pram, grabbed his arm to pull him back out of the way, and in the blink of an eye, Clint went from calm and placid, if bored, to the violent angry child Steve had only seen the one time that he’d attacked the counsellor the orphanage had been making him see.

Clint turned on a dime towards Steve, yanking his arm out of Steve’s grip and shoved into Steve with his whole weight. And Clint was deceptively strong. Steve took a step back to counter the first push, but Clint’s follow-up came too quickly for Steve to do much more than break his fall.

“Clint!” Tony all but shrieked as Steve hit the ground. He was vaguely aware of other shoppers yelling and gasping and whispers starting up all around them, but most of his attention was on Clint.

His eyes were full of fear. Steve watched in a daze as he wrapped his hand around the top of the arm Steve had grabbed and hissed. “Don’t ever touch my arm!”

“Clint, I’m sorry-” Steve began, but Clint seemed to become very suddenly aware of everyone watching him, and he flushed before running out of the shop.

“Clint!” Tony yelled as he tried to watch where Clint went. Clearly trying to hurry, he turned back to the cashier to pay as Thor offered Steve a hand up. Bruce was still staring after Clint.

“What was that about?” He wondered aloud.

“Not sure, come on.” Tony sighed as he turned away from the cashier and ushered them all out of the shop. Clint was nowhere in sight. They called in with the mall’s security, but whilst there had been reports of a young boy walking alone, he’d yet to be picked up by of the officers roaming the place.

After a worrying two and a half hours, Steve’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered without looking.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky drawled. “So, will it alleviate your snappy tone if I tell you a wild Barton’s turned up on my doorstep?” He asked, and Steve could quite clearly hear the grin he was giving Clint in his friend’s tone. Relief crashed through him as the words sunk in properly, and Steve tipped his head to the ceiling.

“Thank god. How the hell did he get there?” Steve asked as he gathered up the shopping bags by his feet, nodding to Tony in the direction of the exit as he did so.

“Dunno. Hey Clint, how’d you get here?” Bucky’s voice got more distant for a moment. “He says he wakled. Do you want me to bring him round to yours?”

“If that’s okay with you, Buck. We’ll get there as quick as we can.” Steve answered before hanging up.

Tony and the kids were looking at him expectantly as they walked out the doors.

“He managed to get himself to Bucky’s place. He’s gonna bring him back round to ours.” Steve explained. The others looked relieved.

“Wonder why he flipped.” Bruce said conversationally, and Steve knew that tone.

“What do you know?” He sighed. Clint had been settling in fine the past couple of months, after the incident with the glass and the knife. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the happy-go-lucky eight year old still had a minefield of issues that they had to hope Clint would open up about or accidentally step on to discover them. _Case in point_, Steve thought miserably as they reached the car park.

“Oh, I don’t _know_ anything.” Bruce answered. “But Clint doesn’t like people sitting or generally being on his left side, and it was his left arm you grabbed. Also he was holding it like it was hurting as he ran.” Steve listened as Bruce mused.

“Well, I admit you’ve got a point.” Steve answered as Tony opened the trunk of the car and they all dumped bags in. “You think he might have been hurt there, too?” He asked quietly.

Natasha snorted as she moved around them to dump her bags in the car. “Yeah, most abused children get dragged around by their limbs, Steve. It tends to be the upper arm that gets caught the most.” She sighed. “It doesn’t take a genius.”

_No, just one to know one,_ Steve thought bitterly. “I guess that makes sense when you think of it like that.” He allowed as he got into the passenger seat.

* * *

Bucky flopped back into his couch after he handed Clint a glass of juice. “So how come you did a runner?” He asked.

Clint sighed. “It was dumb, I know.” He took a sip of his drink, not looking at Bucky.

“Not what I asked you.” Bucky said evenly.

Clint paused, before seeming to reach some kind of conclusion and setting down his drink.

“Steve grabbed me by the arm and I freaked out. Ended up knocking him over.” He admitted slowly.

Bucky frowned. “Your old man grab you by the arm?”

Clint nodded glumly. “Amongst other stuff.”

Bucky patted his knee in invitation, and was not surprised when Clint immediately crossed the room to clamber onto his knee and cling to Bucky’s shirt. He merely wrapped an arm gently around Clint’s back. The kid tended to talk to Bucky more openly than either Steve or Tony, but never if Bucky pushed him.

After a few minutes in silence, Clint shuffled round so his back was pressed to Bucky’s chest. He idly drew patterns up and down Bucky’s metal arm for a while before speaking.

“He smoked.” Clint admitted quietly. “I must’ve annoyed him somehow. Barney was out at school, and I hadn’t seen my mother all day. He just turned on me, dragged me out onto the veranda, told me I was as annoying as the damn stupid name my idiot mother gave me and used me as a human ash tray. Lit up one after another after another and stubbed them out on my arm while I screamed.”

The silence was heavy with questions, but Bucky knew better than to ask them. Clint turned his head to watch him.

“You’re not curious?” He asked, with a carefully blank look.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Bucky answered quietly.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re gonna go and tell Steve.” The boy muttered and slipped off Bucky’s knee to retrieve his drink. 

“I only tell Steve if it’s something I think he needs to know. Like, if I thought you were gonna be going home and trying to find ways to hurt yourself over something, I’d tell Steve about that.”

Clint regarded him for a few moments before returning silently to the side of Bucky’s chair. He pushed his glass into Bucky’s left hand; then cautiously picked up Bucky’s flesh hand in his, gently drawing to the top of his left arm.

Bucky felt sick horror build in his stomach as Clint dragged Bucky’s finger over the old burns, one at a time, until he reached the last one, right in the crook of his elbow. Then, he released Bucky’s hand, took his drink back and sat down on the other chair.

For a while, Bucky could only stare at him, while his mind tried to digest what he’d just been shown.

Under his gaze, Clint shifted uncomfortably.

“Obviously, I didn’t know what it said until two months back.” He said quietly.

Bucky’s brain eventually managed to reboot, and he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath.

“Fuck, Clint, I…” He trailed off, unable to find words. “Fuck. Does it bother you when I smoke?” He asked worriedly, thinking about all the times he’d lit up in Clint’s presence after that night on the roof, back when they’d first met.

Clint shrugged. “Not so much. Everybody smoked at the circus, so I kinda got used to the smell. An’ you don’t smoke his brand.”

“Well, fuck.” Bucky said again, and damn, he probably shouldn’t be swearing around the small child.

Clint gave him a bemused look. “Does fuck have an actual emotional meaning that I don’t know, or do you just swear a lot?” He asked, grinning.

Bucky, despite the uneasy feeling in his chest from the revelation, found himself grinning back. “Fuck off.” He answered as he stood. Clint giggled. _Well_, he mused as he went to grab their shoes from the front door, _swearing in front of the child couldn’t be all that bad if it made him laugh. _

“Come on,” He said with a grin, handing Clint his shoes. “Let’s get you home before Steve gets worried.”

* * * 

Steve was watching through the window as Bucky walked Clint up the drive to his home.

Clint tried not to let his face fall, but he did slow down a beat. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t call him on it.

“He’s gonna be mad at me.” Clint sighed as he looked down at the gravel.

Bucky snorted. “He’s always mad at something, Clint. I’d be worried if he wasn’t mad.” Beside him, Clint pulled a face.

“But he’ll want me to talk about it, and if I don’t he’ll get…” Clint trailed off, frowning in concentration. “Sad at me?” He asked, looking up at Bucky.

“Um, disappointed.” Bucky supplied.

“Oh.” Clint said softly. “That.”

Bucky paused, turning to Clint and crouching down. The boy looked at him, biting his lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why don’t you tell Steve about it, hmm?”

Clint shook his head before Bucky had even finished speaking. “Don’t wanna.” He raised a hand and grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Okay,” Bucky gently pulled Clint’s hand back down. “But why?” For a moment Clint only frowned at him. “Do you not trust Steve?”

“No, I just-” Clint looked away and made a sound of frustration in his throat. “It feels bad.” He said quietly after a moment. “When I tell people, I feel bad.”

Bucky frowned. “Bad, how?”

Clint made a face. “I feel bad, like, everyone is looking at me and I don’t like it, because no one should be looking at me. It’s like I’m more aware of how stupid I am and how fucked up I am and I know everyone can see it and then I feel like I should run away and hide because no one wants to see something like me.”

He looked up at Bucky contemplatively. “Is there a word for that?”

Bucky regarded him for a few minutes before clearing his throat. “There’s a few, bud. But, um, who told you you’re fucked up and stupid?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too upset.

Clint shrugged. “My father told me I’m stupid. And Barney, and Jacques, and Buck. Everyone at the circus told me I’m fucked up.”

Bucky reached out a hand and gently placed it on Clint’s shoulder, making him glance up.

“You’re not.” He said solemnly, catching Clint’s gaze. “You are not either of those things, okay?”

“But-”

“But nothing, Clint!” He paused, taking a calming breath. “You are by no means stupid. As the person who’s teaching you to read and write, you’re not stupid. You pick things up so quickly, it’s astounding.” Clint looked sucker-punched, like he couldn’t believe that someone would think he was not stupid, and Bucky desperately wished that one day, if he told Clint enough times, Clint would realise himself that he wasn’t.

“And honestly,” Bucky continued. “So, you have a past, and it’s crappy. That’s _life_, Clint. You had a real shit childhood, and you were never gonna walk away from that and be sunshine and daisies. But, you know what, if they think about it, almost everyone can think of something from their childhood that affected them. Clint, you are not fucked up, okay? People will probably always think it about you, because they can’t understand what you’ve been through, and the scars, emotional and physical, that that’s left. But it doesn’t make it true!” He insisted quietly, squeezing Clint’s shoulder.

Clint was almost shaking. “But so many people can’t be wrong!” He blurted, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Clint, what do you think makes you fucked up?” Bucky asked with a sigh.

To his relief, Clint took a deep breath, and managed to calm himself before he answered. “I don’t know.” He admitted quietly. “I guess, panic attacks, and, this, fucking crying over nothing,” Clint muttered, suddenly getting angry and gesturing viciously towards his face. “Fucking, needing to want a school shirt that doesn’t fit as well because it’s less see-through, and wanting long-sleeves, and freaking out just because someone touched my fucking arm an’, and-”

“Okay, hey, woah. Time out.” Bucky interrupted, alarmed at just how angry with himself Clint seemed to be. “There is nothing wrong with any of that.” Clint scoffed without meeting Bucky’s gaze. “I mean it, Clint. You think you’re the only one?” For a moment, Clint looked uncertain, so Bucky pressed on. “You wanna know why I took so long to open the door when you got to mine? _I_ was having a panic attack.” He admitted bluntly.

“You… you were?” Clint asked, still looking a little disbelieving. Bucky nodded, because it was true. If it hadn’t been for Clint knocking, he would probably only just be getting over it, not that he was going to dump that knowledge on Clint.

“And you know what? I’ve seen Thor, Bruce, and even Nat have them. I know for a fact Tony has them, but I’ve never seen it. Steve has them too. And bud, trust me, no one gets the whole not-wanting-your-scars-to-show thing more than me, okay?” He exhaled shakily. “Getting this prosthetic attached permanently, joining it up with my nerves so that I can move it? That left a hell of a lot of scars, and they’re gonna be there for life. And I always panic that someone’s gonna see them and say something. But it doesn’t make me fucked up, okay? Would you say Steve is fucked up?”

Clint shook his head silently, watching Bucky. “Then neither are we.” Bucky straightened from his crouch, and smiled slightly down at the boy, who had turned back to the house. “Come on.” Bucky said, and offered Clint his hand.

For a split second, Bucky thought Clint was going to ignore him and just walk to the door. But after a second, he looked up at Bucky, eyes wide.

“I don’t wanna go in yet.” He paused, biting his lip. “Can- can we go somewhere?”

Bucky hesitated, watching Clint. “Um, well, let’s check in with Steve first, okay?”

Clint heaved a sigh, but nodded, and took Bucky’s hand.

* * *

Two hours later, Bucky walked Clint up his friend’s drive for the second time, only this time, he had Clint walking on his left side, and Natasha walking on his right. The two had bonded over ice cream in the park, and Nat had even gotten Clint to agree to tell Steve about his arm.

Clint was happier, though, and he leaned into Bucky’s side as he walked.

As Natasha went ahead to open the door, he looked up at Bucky, a small smile on his lips.

“Bucky? Thanks for saying I’m not stupid.” 

“It’s true, you know. You’re one of the smartest guys I know.”

Clint blushed, then with no warning, jumped at Bucky’s chest. Bucky caught the boy, easily taking his weight in his metal arm. Bucky could feel Clint smiling into his shoulder.

“Shall we see if we can talk Tony into pizza for dinner?” Bucky asked, carrying Clint into the house.

Clint sat up in Bucky’s arms, and shot him a conspiratorial grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, the burn scars on Clint's arm that he shows Bucky in this fic are meant to spell his name. There are scenes in the first story that have already begun to imply that these burns spell his name; this story confirms that.


End file.
